


A night to remember

by ivyness



Series: AU Yeah August 2018 [19]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reverse Crush, M/M, Reverse meeting, au yeah august
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 00:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15740112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyness/pseuds/ivyness
Summary: Viktor doesn’t remember the banquet but Yuuri does





	A night to remember

Yuuri is not drunk but he wishes he was. But no, Yuuri is never drinking ever again ever in the history of forever. He keeps running what happened at the Grand Prix banquet over and over in his head. He had gotten completely smashed and asked, no begged, Viktor Nikiforov, gold medal winner and living legend to dance with him and he agreed.

Yuuri wishes he couldn’t remember that night. Almost a month has passed and videos keep circling around the figure skating world and Yuuri is so incredibly lucky they haven’t been leaked yet. He had _stripped_ , for crying out loud but of course his drunk self couldn’t just leave it there. Yuuri distinctly remembers pole dancing with Chris in front of his coach, friends, judges, sponsors, and Viktor.

“Yuuri! You can’t hide in here forever,” Phichit called as he barged into Yuuri’s room without bothering to knock.

Yuuri rolled himself into a ball of blankets and huddled in the corner of his bed. “Watch me.”

Phichit jumped up onto the bed and squished himself up next to Yuuri. He pulled out his phone with a flourish. “You know how you skated Viktor’s Stammi Vicino routine two days ago?”

“Yes…?” Yuuri said cautiously as Phichit flashed an evil, mischievous grin.

“I’m apologizing now but you’ll thank you me later when you’re done freaking: I recorded your skate and posted it online.” Phichit steamrolled right over Yuuri’s squak of indignation and embarrassment. “You haven’t been checking your social media accounts lately but guess who posted a reaction video!?” Phichit asked gleefully.

Yuuri groaned and didn’t bother trying to figure it out.

“Viktor freaking Nikiforov!” Phichit squealed.

Yuuri froze, pale as a deer in the headlights, and then his face suddenly flushed bright red and he smacked Phichit’s arm. “No! Why! Oh my god why!” He kept smacking Phichit who was laughing loud and obnoxious. Yuuri grabbed at his pillow and made to smother him.

In fear of imminent death, Phichit slyly asked through his laughter, “You want to see it?”

Yuuri froze in mid-attack. He didn’t want to but how could he not? “Maybe...?”

Phichit grinned and knocked them both back down to the bed and pulled up the video.

It was a short. Just Viktor lounging on the couch with his dog, phone propped up against his knee as he played the video Phichit had secretly recorded. Viktor watched him, enraptured, despite Yuuri’s shabby workout clothes and added weight from a month of inactivity.

Yuuri had downgraded most of the jumps from Viktor’s gold medal winning routine and yet Viktor looked at him as if he was a skater worth watching.

And at the very end of the video Viktor breathed out a sharp, loud breath, full of awe and enlightenment and possibility. And then the video was over.

Yuuri buried his head in his hands, shocked, confused and the month long ache he had felt since the Grand Prix Final came roaring back like a punch in the gut.

The banquet was long past and Yuuri was in a slump that was just getting worse with every passing day. At the banquet, smashed out of his mind and half naked, Yuuri had asked Viktor to be his coach and to his surprise and the surprise of everyone around him, Viktor had said yes. But then Yuuri’s hangover came and went and Viktor never called.

Yuuri was fine. He had clawed his way out of his own head countless times before and he would do it again. But that didn’t give Viktor the right to take his feelings and throw them right back in his face, in public no less.

Yuuri glared at the phone, then Phichit, and the back to the phone. “Play it again.”

Phichit glanced at Yuuri warily, no longer so playful, but he hit play again.

After about the fifth replay, Yuuri finally managed to choke out, “Why?”

Phichit hesitated before answering and pulled Yuuri into a tight hug, “Viktor said yes at the banquet. And he wasn't at all drunk.”

“Then why didn’t he call?” Yuuri leaned heavily into the hug.

“Don’t you think this is his way of reaching out to you?”

Yuuri looked at Phichit’s phone, feeling lost.

“So what are you going to do?” Phichit asked.

“I don’t know.”

************

Two weeks later, Yuuri stepped off the plane in St. Petersburg. He wasn’t at all drunk but he was high on adrenaline and fear and righteous indignation and too little sleep. He headed straight for the ice rink. To Viktor’s ice rink. Viktor had promised to coach him and Yuuri was here to cash in that promise.


End file.
